


Making No Promises

by this_is_madness



Category: Supernatural
Genre: "Red Meat", 11.17, Spoilers, Suicidal Dean Winchester, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, very short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 20:01:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6438295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_is_madness/pseuds/this_is_madness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A very short fic that takes place immediately after the end of 11.17 "Red Meat" detailing a conversation about Dean's actions within the episode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making No Promises

**Author's Note:**

> This is completely non-canonical, and my point of view only. I took Dean's canonical knowledge of exact types of pills to take within the episode as a hint at past experience with suicidal thoughts, though I know he could have the knowledge for numerous other reasons. I thought this episode was particularly heart wrenching because of Dean's suicide attempt, and truly representative of Dean's current state of mind within the series. I also hope that the writers bring back the topic in later episodes, and that they do not simply leave it with Dean glossing over his attempt and avoiding the subject with Sam forever. These, however, are simply my personal opinions.

Sam lasted exactly five miles before pressing Dean again. 

“You didn’t know that I wasn’t dead.” Sam broached the subject again and the increase of tension in Dean’s shoulders, the deepened frown at the probing statement was not lost on Sam. 

“Sammy, you’re alive,” Dean eventually replied. “That’s all that matters.”

“What did you do, though?” Sam pressed. “That’s all I’m asking. I want to hear it from you.”

Dean glanced at Sam. “Hear what from me?”

Sam was quiet for a long moment before sighing. “My nurse mentioned something about pills.”

Dean sighed heavily, but did not offer a reply. 

“Dean,” Sam intoned softly. “What did you do when you thought I was dead?”

“Sammy, just let it go,” Dean suggested. “You’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

Sam was silent, but the tension in the car was palpable. It was a few long, agonizing moments before Sam finally said, “That’s not all that matters, De.”

“Sammy, please,” Dean pleaded gruffly. “Just…let it go.”

“I can’t,” Sam replied immediately. “You always say that me living is all that matters. That’s not all that matters. Your life is just as important as mine. Your life matters too.”

“Stop,” Dean barked at him and Sam fell silent for a moment before continuing, quietly. 

“Dean, pull over,” Sam suggested. “We need to talk about this.”

“We do not need to talk about this,” Dean shook his head. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Dean, pull over,” Sam repeated. “Please.”

Dean groaned but jerked the wheel angrily, forcing Baby onto the side of the highway. He threw the gear shift into park and swung the door open, stepping out and putting his hands behind his head. With a loud sigh, he swept his hands forward through his hair as he heard Sam’s door creak open. Dean walked around to the fender and leaned against the hood of the car. Without looking at Sam as he approached to do the same, Dean quietly told him, “You should stay sitting. You don’t need to overstrain yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Sam shook his head. “Thanks to you.”

“I didn’t help you,” Dean glanced at him. “I left you in the cabin.”

“Dean…” Sam let out a slow, quiet breath. “My well being will always be thanks to you.”

“Why?” Dean couldn’t help the incredulous tone. 

“You raised me,” Sam pointed out. “You’ve always been the one to make sure that I was safe, that I was happy and healthy.”

“Well, at least healthy,” Dean snorted. 

“I don’t really thank you enough for that,” Sam told his older brother. 

Dean snorted again. “Can we stow the touchy feely crap?”

“No,” Sam shook his head. “Dean, when you thought I was dead, what exactly did you do?”

“Sam…” Dean tried, finally looking at his brother, who was giving him the patented Baby Brother Puppy Dog Eyes, which he knew Dean could hardly resist. 

“Please,” Sam added for good measure. 

Dean finally sighed heavily, raking his palm across his face. “Fine,” he grunted. “Fine. God, fine. I thought you were dead and…well, obviously I needed to get you back. So I did the one thing I’m good at.”

“You died,” Sam’s voice was thick.

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed. “I went to talk to a reaper. It’s worked before, I had to try.”

“You…you…?” Sam couldn’t find the words. 

“I downed some pills,” Dean’s voice was growing quieter and quieter. “The ones that I know work. It needed to be quick.”

The kind he knew would work because he was always good about his research. Thoughts of escape had plagued Dean for most of his life, though he denied and denied. But the first time he thought to actually research the quickest way out, had come closest to realizing his plan was during his time with Lisa. After months of trying to figure out how to get Sam out of the Cage and coming up with jack squat, Dean was ready to join his brother in Hell. The only reason Dean didn’t go through with it was thoughts of Ben, who reminded him so much of Sam in so many ways. Dean couldn’t stand the thought of Ben having to find his mother in tears, having to deal with the aftermath of Dean’s decision, having to suffer because Dean wasn’t strong enough, was too broken. But he couldn’t tell Sam all of this. He couldn’t tell anybody any of it. 

“Dean…” Sam tried, but Dean wasn’t finished. 

“And…and I know that maybe it wasn’t the best thing to do…and that maybe when you died, you wanted to stay dead…but…” Dean pushed away from the car roughly, turning from Sam and furiously scrubbing at his teary eyes that betrayed the true extent of panic and dread that he felt still, the icy tendrils that gripped his heart and squeezed at the mere thought of losing his Sammy, the boy he raised, and the only thing he was truly proud of, truly loved. “Sammy…it may be selfish…but I can’t. I can’t do this without you. I can hardly do this with you…Everything is just so…nothing is good right now anyway and I couldn’t see…I didn’t want to do this…do anything if…I couldn’t.”

Dean fell silent and he dreaded the look Sam was giving him, suspected the pity at Dean’s weakness. He startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder, slowly turning him. Sam pulled Dean into a huge hug that Dean eventually reciprocated. Dean pulled back first and patted Sam’s cheek. They both slipped back into the car and it was a few minutes back on the highway until Sam finally broke the silence. 

“Will you promise me something, Dean?”

“What?” 

“Don’t…don’t do that again,” Sam’s voice was thick again. “Please…don’t kill yourself. Ever again. Please.”

Dean was silent. He couldn’t promise that.

“Dean?” Sam pressed. 

“If there ain’t no you, there ain’t no me, Sammy,” Dean offered. Dean tried not to make promises he couldn’t keep.


End file.
